


Human

by jedirangerpenguin



Series: Immortals - A Shepard and Anderson Series [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Guilt, Mentorship, Post-Virmire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedirangerpenguin/pseuds/jedirangerpenguin
Summary: Anderson's read the Virmire reports. Shepard doesn't want to talk."This isn’t a lecture.""And I don’t need a pep talk.""You need to admit you’re human."
Relationships: David Anderson & Shepard
Series: Immortals - A Shepard and Anderson Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004064
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Human

The pulsing bar music spilled out into the hall as Shepard approached Flux. The place was clearly no worse for wear after Sovereign had gone sailing through the Presidium in pieces a week before; one thing to be grateful for. Shepard walked past the bouncer with a nod, spotted Anderson across the bar, then grinned and walked up, grabbing his offered hand and pulling him into an embrace.

“Shepard,” Anderson said with a smile. “I was worried you wouldn’t want to meet me here, after what happened last time.”

Shepard snorted as they settled in at the small table. “You mean when you helped me steal a prototype warship? _You_ should be the one who doesn’t want to meet _me_ here.”

“It was my idea.” A small smile flitted across Anderson’s face. “And I did get to punch Udina.”

Shepard laughed. “Is that why we’re here?” she asked eagerly. “You want me to find you another excuse to hit him? I will. Might be harder with him being a councilor now.”

“No, that’s not why we’re here. Wouldn’t say no to it, though.”

Shepard laughed again. There were a lot more layers to the first N7 than she’d anticipated, and with every one revealed he seemed a little more human, and a _lot_ more fun. A waiter stopped by the table, and the pair stopped long enough to place orders. “So, if we’re not punching Udina, why _am_ I here?” Shepard asked.

“Can’t want to catch up with my old X.O.?”

“‘Old?’ It hasn’t even been a year. Has it? You called-”

“Not quite,” Anderson replied quickly. “But you spent a lot of that time on your own. You got into a lot of trouble out there. I even heard from Admiral Hackett.”

Shepard held a hand up. “Listen. I did every single thing he asked, _without question_. If he’s got any kind of complaints about me-”

“None. Called to let me know I did a good job with you.”

Shepard’s eyes widened and swiveled to Anderson. ‘Did a good job?’ As if Hackett thought Anderson had managed to whip her into shape, make her model of discipline and integrity, instead of barely keeping her in line? The barely-concealed amusement on Anderson’s face confirmed it, and Shepard doubled over laughing. Anderson gave a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I told him.”

Shepard picked herself back up off the table. “Oh, that's good. He tell you how much Alliance shit he had me clean up?”

“Careful, that one could get you in trouble.”

Shepard rolled her eyes. “Fine. He tell you about Luna?”

"He mentioned a few things, but I figured you could tell them better."

"Oh, I can."

  
They talked for nearly half an hour, with Shepard recounting various highlights of the Normandy's assignment to stop Saren. She found herself having to swerve around topics that came too close to Kaidan, but Anderson didn't seem to notice.

“So we’ve got like two minutes on the clock to get the hell out of Dodge, with an entire nest of baby rachni between us and the door. Made it, obviously, but I still don’t think Garrus has forgiven me for making him wade through close combat.”

"That does make a good story."

"You're damn right it does.”

Anderson took a sip of his drink. “There was another one, though, that I was hoping you could tell me about."

"Shoot."

Anderson hesitated. The two-second pause was her only warning. “I saw the report on Virmire.”

Her smile, and the mirth in her chest, dissipated. Of course he’d had some ulterior motive in meeting with her. And damn it, he _had_ noticed the way she’d danced around Kaidan. Her hand reflexively tightened around her glass.

“Sounded... rough,” Anderson prompted when she didn’t answer.

“Damn shitshow is what it was,” Shepard said blandly, raising her glass to her lips and hoping that would be enough to satisfy him.

“You holding up?”

“I’m fine. We won, right?”

There was a pause. Shepard's muscles began to tense, ready to fight, as she realized what was coming.

“Shepard. You did what you could. You didn’t-“

“I don’t need a lecture, Anderson,” she snapped.

They locked eyes for a moment and Shepard readied herself for the shouting match. Insubordination, lack of perspective, reckless decision making--she'd taken it all before, and she'd do it again.

But instead of pushing, Anderson settled back in his chair and looked away. “Alright.”

It felt like tripping over a rock she hadn’t seen. The resistance she'd been expecting gave way, and left her nothing to target. Nothing to fight. Her tensed muscles unknit hesitantly. She watched Anderson, waiting for some sort of movement, but he simply looked ahead, gazing at the telescreens.

She finally lowered her gaze to the table. In the silence, without a fight to occupy her mind, everything about Virmire came flooding back. Kirrahe’s request. Kaidan and Ashley both volunteering. Freezing, fucking _freezing_ , to the point that Garrus had to pull her out of it. Choosing to send Kaidan, and choosing to go back for the bomb-

“I left him there.”

The words tumbled out, and her heart immediately started pounding in response. She chanced a glance toward Anderson. He was silently looking back, with an eyebrow raised in indication for her to continue. The absence of disappointment in his face was enough to spur her on. “I left him, I- and I sent him with Kirrahe. I didn’t- I _had_ to go back for the... it was always gonna come down to that. But if I’d sent Ashley with them instead...”

Anderson was good at filling in gaps; she'd give him that. “You think she would have had a better chance of fighting her way out with the STG folks?”

“ _They_ made it out.” The edges of her eyes burned. Damn it. “They couldn’t have made it out with him?”

Anderson said something, but his tone was too soft to cut through all the shit happening inside her. Her eyes stung, too much. Way too much. She could hear her blood rushing, feel it pounding through veins that were too small, too tight. Her lungs and vision followed suit. Shepard slammed a hand on the table and pushed herself up, out, searching for air, escape, _anything_. “I said I don’t need a lecture!”

For a few moments, Shepard stood silent, practically blind, trying to breathe. Then Anderson’s calm voice came from beside her. “You’re making a scene.”

Shepard looked over, then blinked. Anderson's face was too low. She scanned the bar as her vision slowly opened up. She was standing, and people were staring. A lot of people. Enough had already been looking at Captain Anderson and the first human Spectre; her outburst was only drawing more eyes. She sank back into her seat, momentarily chastised, searching for air. 

“This isn’t a lecture,” Anderson said as she sat.

“And I don’t need a pep talk.”

“You need to admit you’re human.”

That one hit. Shepard stared at the table, setting her jaw in a desperate attempt at stability. Anderson watched her in silence, then looked away as he sipped his drink. “I get it. Elysium made you feel invincible, like you were supposed to have all the answers. Then with ICT, becoming a Spectre, the Normandy... there hasn't been much to argue the point. But you’re not invincible. And that’s _okay_.”

Her breathing was back, but it was starting to shake. Damn Anderson and his damned _compassion_. Why couldn’t he just argue with her? “I said I don’t need a pep talk.”

Anderson didn't reply. He just sat there, silently, letting her _think_ , like a five-year-old who'd broken their toy. 

She didn't want to think. She grabbed at the glass in front of her and downed it in one go, hoping the shock of the alcohol would chase some of whatever the hell was happening inside of her out. All she succeeded in doing was adding a burning in her throat to the burning in her eyes.

Water warped her vision as she stared at the empty glass.

 _Fuck_. 

Anderson seemed to decide he'd tortured her long enough. He shifted forward to lean his weight on his elbows, hands clasped over the table. “I’m not here to judge you, Shepard,” he said softly.

"Then why are you here."

"I want to help."

“Why. Why does this even matter. It's done, it's over, why do you _care_.”

”I picked Alenko for the Normandy too, you know.”

Shepard pressed a hand over her mouth as her stomach roiled. Fucking _fuck_. Anderson hadn’t just handed her a ship, he’d entrusted her with its crew, and if failing herself and her own crew wasn’t bad enough-

”Then you _should_ be giving me a lecture," she said flatly. "At minimum.”

”Why?”

"I killed your crewman."

"Shepard, you've killed a hell of a lot of people. But you didn't kill Alenko."

Shepard tilted her cheek into her hand, turning her face away from Anderson. The welling tears rolled along the rim of her eyes. 

She didn't reply.

"I'm sorry," Anderson said quietly. 

That was enough of a shock to bring some of her systems back online. She pulled her head up as the tears started retracting, and looked back at him. "What? Why?"

“Because it’s my fault you were in that mess in the first place.” Anderson caught the frown on her face and elaborated. “I put you on the Normandy. I pushed your Spectre candidacy, and got myself thrown off the Saren case. You got thrust into something a lot bigger than any of us were ready for, and I wasn’t there to help.”

“So?"

" _So_ , it's my fault you were in that mess. I'm sorry for that. And I'm very proud of what you've done."

Shepard looked away again. The apology was disorienting enough on its own, but for someone she'd served under for... _weeks_ , to say he was proud of her? Shepard looked for anything to say in response, and came up woefully short. "You're not my dad," she finally muttered.

Anderson laughed. _Hard_. Shepard looked over, baffled.

"No, I'm not, thank god. But I'm proud of you all the same. You should be, too."

Shepard stared at the table and didn’t reply. Instead of abandoning her to silence and self-reflection, Anderson collected his glass and lightly held it up. "To Alenko?"

Shepard opened her mouth to point out that she'd already downed her drink, then spotted a refill in front of her. Anderson must have ordered it; she hadn't noticed.

She chewed her tongue to fight back the treacherous burning rising in her eyes again. Self-reflection and doubt _wanted_ to pull her down. But damn it, after everything he'd done, Kaidan at minimum deserved a toast. Whatever the hell her brain wanted to do to her, it could fucking wait. She picked up her fresh glass and lightly clinked it against Anderson's.

"To Kaidan."


End file.
